Quotes About Emotion

Some philosophers argue that the external world does not exist and that it is only within ourselves that our lives evolve. Be that as it may, love, even in its humblest beginnings, is a striking example of how little reality means for us. If I had had to draw, describe or inventory the details of Mlle d'Éporcheville's features from memory, or even to recognize her in the street, I would have found it impossible.

I raised my eyes to those flavescent, frizzy locks and felt myself caught in their swirl and swept away, with a throbbing heart, amid the lightning and the blasts of a hurricane of beauty.

with the slight emotion which a man feels when, even without being fully aware of what he is doing, he says something, not because it is true but because he enjoys saying it, and listens to his own voice uttering the words as though they came from some one else,

Vakit kaybetmemek için yataktan kalkt?m, ama ac? beni oldu?um yere çiviledi: O gitti?inden beri ilk kez yataktan kalk?yordum.

They seemed nothing more now than the purely subjective, impotent, illusory creatures of my temperament

the knowledge that the hour was approaching when her husband ought to arrive without knowing whether or not he would send one of those telegrams of which the model had been wittily invented by M. de Guermantes: "Impossible to come, lie follows," paled her cheeks and ringed her eyes.

Cuando a través de la vida una ha sido una mujer reservada y pudorosa, y con serios intentos de lealtad salpicando esta monotonía, resulta dificilísimo reconocer el deseo. Éste se escapa, esquivo, huye de rama en rama, aflora sólo para volver a ocultarse, temible, a disfrazar los sentires, dejando el interior sin manejo alguno, impredecible.

Qué es lo que te atrae de ese mundo? Que es real, le contesté, que está vivo y agregué con cierta tristeza que no pude disimular, y supongo que lo vivo duele.

Ninoska mi sorrise come non potrebbe mai fare un uomo, come se le donne capissero tutto le une delle altre, dall'eternità.

Más que besarla, más que acostarnos juntos, más que ninguna otra cosa, ella me daba la mano, y eso era amor.

Hatred is like blood, it's impossible to conceal and it stains everything.

For some reason I want to keep a secret. I want to cup it in my hands and keep it safe like an egg. I want to old it in the corner of my cheek where it is safe and dark.

Even our phone calls were like crawling naked across a field of broken glass.

Hate is not an emotion that a prosecutor can afford. Hate clouds your thinking and distorts your priorities.

Give us either bright sun or pouring rain—the in-between stuff depresses me.

The opposite of love isn't hate–it's indifference. And if you hate me, that means you still care.

Saber es una cosa y sentir es otra muy distinta.

O sea que el amor es el cuento del tío por el que de pronto te venden lo que vos no querías ni regalado.

My heart beats as much as I can breathe.

Porque donde esté vuestro tesoro, allí estará también vuestro corazón»

The best answer to anger is silence.

Simt c? port în mine dou? inimi, e ca ?i cum a? tr?i o a doua via?? — cea din vis.

To describe a tempest of elements is not easy, but to describe a tempest of the soul is impossible.

Why do we as humans create art? Why is Richter's work regarded as art while a book of Dulux colour samples is not?